Sept. 11: 10 Years Later
Brian Tolstyka stood at the edge of a giant American flag spread across several tables in the Veterans Affairs hospital gym. Wearing a leather vest with a flag patch and a hat with a flag pin, Tolstyka was about to stitch his place in history.
People look at some news photos shot on Sept. 11, 2001, and wonder how those who took them could bear to keep working in the face of such tragedy.
Kamaljit Atwal's neighborhood seems like an unlikely place for a hate crime. His street in this Sacramento suburb seems a model of diversity.
Back home, where Rick Sluder is the police chief of a village of 3,000 surrounded by corn and soybean fields, traffic wouldn't be an issue. But this morning, at the helm of a rented 15-passenger van mired in a New York City traffic jam thicker than the summer heat, he's way out of his jurisdiction.
Letters written by Helen Keller. Forty-thousand photographic negatives of John F. Kennedy taken by the president's personal cameraman. Sculptures by Alexander Calder and Auguste Rodin. The 1921 agreement that created the agency that built the World Trade Center.
Bicyclists zoom across the Golden Gate Bridge, wander open walkways on either side and stop for hot coffee at a cafe at the base. A bridge officer cruises by on his patrol bike.
Cardinal Edward Egan was eating breakfast when then-Mayor Rudy Giuliani called to say there was a tragedy and the churchman was needed. A police car would soon be outside the chancery to take the leader of New York's Roman Catholics downtown.
In Dealey Plaza, with the white "X" painted on the spot where President Kennedy was assassinated, ask anyone about the grassy knoll and the second gunman.
He was the living symbol of the Sept. 11, 2001, terror attacks, a hero to a traumatized nation seeking leadership in a time of crisis. Walking miles through the streets of Manhattan, Mayor Rudy Giuliani urged New York and the world to be calm, said the city would survive. With empathy and restraint, he said the number of 9/11 dead would be "more than any of us can bear."
Ten years after the 9/11 attacks, government screening has made it harder for foreign students to enroll in civilian flight schools as a handful of the hijackers did, banking on America being inviting and a place to learn quickly.
More than half of Muslim-Americans in a new poll say that government anti-terrorism policies single them out for increased surveillance and monitoring, and many report increased cases of name-calling, threats and harassment by airport security, law enforcement officers and others.
Officials in Arizona and New York have launched investigations into charities that claim to serve 9/11 causes, probing whether they failed to follow state laws _ and may have misspent millions intended to help and honor those affected by the terrorist attacks.
Just hours after the first death in the 2001 anthrax attacks, Tom Slezak was told to gather his team, collect his gear and get on a plane.
A new art exhibit looks at "Ten Years After 9/11."
Americans eager to give after the 9/11 terrorist attacks poured $1.5 billion into hundreds of charities established to serve the victims, their families and their memories. But a decade later, an Associated Press investigation shows that many of those nonprofits have failed miserably.
More than a third of the hundreds of new charities created after the 9/11 attacks are still operating, although many have transformed into nonprofits promising to help veterans, victims of other tragedies or some other unrelated cause.
A New York vintner has produced a 9/11 memorial wine that's been approved by the Sept. 11 memorial board. But critics say the wine's in poor taste.
The terrorist attacks of Sept. 11, 2001 turned them into widows and the four Jersey Girls, as they became known, turned themselves into activists.
What if it should happen again?